


Snapshot

by Glowbug



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loneliness, Regrets, Spoilers, kinda sorta post-series entirely, post-Azran Legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowbug/pseuds/Glowbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emmy is no longer Professor Layton's assistant, but she still has one last set of photos from their adventures...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot I wrote immediately after finishing Azran Legacy because oh, _Emmy._ Needless to say, spoilers for the Layton prequel trilogy and Azran Legacy in particular.

I’ve taken to traveling.

Uncle Leon first gave me my camera, back in the days before he forgot about everything except the Azran. “The eyes may deceive, little Emmeline, but the camera never lies,” he said.

I don’t know if that’s true anymore. Uncle Leon was wrong about a lot of things… and so was I.

I tuck my last unfinished roll of film in my traveling pack when I leave London, and start fresh. I sell my scooter, change my jacket, pull back my hair. When a passersby asks how I am at puzzles, I shake my head, force a smile, and walk away. I am not the professor’s assistant anymore.

I make my way through England, then Europe, then the more far-flung parts of the world. I know about surviving; I ought to. I send the photos I take to travel correspondents, rather than to Gressenheller. I stay in one place long enough for the checks to come back, cash them, then move on. I make up puzzles out of sheer boredom sometimes, but I leave them in my notebook, unsolved.

I follow the papers, when I can get them. The professor’s keeping busy. He seems to have picked up a foster daughter at some point, and Luke, well, Luke’s his old self. They’re busy finding long-lost artifacts and hidden villages, though nothing as big as the Azran Legacy.

Perhaps that’s for the best.

I half expect someone from Targent to come looking for me, with a plea to regroup perhaps, but no one does. I’m glad.

After a few years, the Professor’s name appears in the papers less frequently. Luke vanishes from the photos whose captions proclaim another puzzle solved, though the girl occasionally still appears. She looks a bit like Aurora; I wonder if the professor’s noticed.

It’s not until my pack is coming apart at the seams that I find the old roll of film again, still undeveloped. I’m tempted to tuck it away again, but I don’t. I ask around until I find a darkroom I can slip into for an hour, and develop all the pictures myself.

These were the photos from our last trip, around the world on the Bostonius.

_Here’s the fake, Emmeline. They’ll want the real stone back, will they? Well, you just let them come and get it. And then it’ll all be in our grasp. Anything goes wrong, just grab that boy and watch Layton do whatever the hell we please._

_Emmy, stop it! This isn’t funny!_

Luke always maintained that I only pretended to betray him and the professor, right up until the day I put in my resignation. I wish it were true. Maybe then I could have stayed.

The photos emerge one by one on paper under red light. There’s Descole—or Professor Sycamore—examining crystals in Phong Gi. There’s Professor Layton cracking a puzzle in top form. There’s Luke with Old Red. Luke must be close to eighteen by now… has it really been that long?

The final picture on the roll isn’t one of mine. I’d forgotten. Right before we left Monte d’Or, Luke and the professor convinced me to lend Henry Ledore my camera, just long enough to get a picture of all three of us in front of the city monument.

And there we are. Professor Layton is in the middle, of course; tallest one in the back, and he never takes that hat off that I’ve seen him. His hand is resting on Luke’s shoulder. Luke, for his part, is doing an admirable job at smiling for the camera rather than running to the nearest ice cream stall, where we all ended up after the picture. The professor surprised me by ordering two scoops. I never knew a gentleman could like ice cream.

I’m on the right side of the picture, hanging on to Luke’s hand just in case he decides that ice cream is a little too tempting. I’m wearing an enormous grin, one I’ve never seen on myself in the mirror; it’s as if there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. I am—I was—Professor Layton’s assistant, and another case has just been closed.

I lift the photo out of the developing solution.

The camera never lies.


End file.
